


The Path That Leads Me To You

by thatwriterlady



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge 2017 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attraction, Dean asks Castiel out, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frustration, Hating Job, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Psychiatrist Castiel, Stress, Stressful Job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwriterlady/pseuds/thatwriterlady
Summary: Cas has a very stressful job working at a private hospital for the mentally ill teenagers of the wealthy.  It's extremely stressful and he's been thinking of a job change for a while, but when his antique car gets destroyed by a former patient, that settles the debate for him.  It's time to put in his two week notice.Getting his car restored leads him to meet Dean, the handsome owner of Winchester Restorations, and they become friends very quickly.  He finds himself wondering if friends is all they'll ever be, until the day Dean makes the move he's been waiting for.





	The Path That Leads Me To You

**Author's Note:**

> God I hate writing summaries, lol. The word for today is "Private". I hope you like this one. I've been in some serious pain the last few days, full body, and I've been dealing with an ongoing migraine. No surprise there. Plus my physical therapist isn't going to be happy with me. I wrenched my knee last night and strained something in the side of my knee. I'm a mess. But it isn't stopping me from writing. I do hope you enjoy this one. I'm going to go and nurse my head and see if something will help my aching body.

**Day 6~**

**Private~**

 

Doctor Cas Novak took a deep breath and reached for the bottle of Tums in his desk drawer.  They weren’t as effective as they once were and after the session he’d just had, sour didn’t even begin to describe how his stomach felt.  He popped three out and tossed them in his mouth, crunching on them as he made notations in Taylor’s file.  The girl had an extensive history of violence that was not getting better.  He’d been trying to help her for two years now but every time he felt that he was making any sort of progress, her parents would yank her out and take her home.  Such was the way with private institutions like this.  If the parents deemed that their children were “cured”, or they didn’t want to spend the funds to make their child better any longer, they’d just pull them out, and unleash them on society again.  Taylor’s parents had made that mistake twice before.  They had finally learned their lesson the hard way though, after she burned their $2.5 million dollar mansion down, with her little brother still inside.  He’d survived, barely, and had sustained extensive damage that he would need years of surgery to help him regain some semblance of a normal life again.  And Taylor had shown no remorse whatsoever.  It was that which had gotten her father to throw his money and weight as a judge around and land her back in here.  She would remain here until she was 18 at which time she would move to another private hospital.  Her father had arranged for his daughter to never step foot outside of a hospital again. 

 

After handling Taylor’s mental health care for the last four years, he believed the world was safer with her in here.  Unfortunately that meant the other patients were not safe.  There were fights on a daily basis, attempted murders, regular escape attempts, and nearly every single day someone was trying to attack him during a therapy session.  He worked with the most violent teenagers, the ones in need of extensive therapy that were best kept far, far away from the rest of society, like Taylor, a psychopathic pyromaniac with Intermittent Explosive Disorder.  Most of the kids here had IED though.  He rubbed at his temple, cringing when his fingers came away sticky.  Looking down he saw the tips were covered in blood.  Taylor had experienced one of her outbursts and lunged across his desk, punching him and digging her nails in before he could stop her and call for help.  She’s been immediately sedated and taken to her room.  He could feel a migraine coming on. 

 

After cleaning up the blood and applying a bandage, he took some ibuprofen and finished his notes on Taylor’s file.  This job didn’t pay enough for the hell he went through on a daily basis.  He was literally putting his life on the line every day he came in here.  Lately he’d been seriously considering opening his own private practice.  It would be safer and the hours would be better.  He had a friend interested in being his partner too so they could share the cost of renting the space.  Every day that sounded more and more enticing.

 

He put Taylor’s file away and checked his watch.  It was already after seven and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, if you didn’t count the Tums.  Going home, having a salad with grilled chicken and a bowl of butternut squash bisque with a piece of cornbread sounded like heaven.  He packed up his briefcase, shrugged on his coat and headed out, nodding goodnight to the staff as he passed by.  It wasn’t until he reached the parking lot that his plans to relax and decompress after a week from hell were completely ruined.  As the snow fell thick around him, he stared at his car, his pride and joy.  The windows had been shattered, the tires slashed, the hood smashed, and the words “COCK SUCKER” had been spray painted on both sides.  His beautiful, classic ’55 Chevy Bel Air was ruined.  With a shaky hand he pulled his phone out and called the police.  There wasn’t much they’d be able to do, unless they could bet prints, but he wanted this documented for his insurance.  Then he’d have to call his sister to come and get him, and arrange for his car to be towed somewhere.  Like this damn week could possibly get any worse.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The first spot of good news he received came the following morning when he received a call from one of the responding officers who said they had actually found prints.  One of his former patients, Zach Duran, another troubled kid whose parents had pulled him out too soon about two weeks earlier.  He’d really given Cas a hard time, arguing constantly and trying to hit him every chance he got.  His last words had been that he’d get payback.  Now Cas was left with a car he couldn’t drive thanks to Zach’s selfishness and cruelty.  All he’d wanted to do was help the boy, and this was the thanks he got.  At least he knew who had done it.

 

The second bit of good news he received was a referral to a restoration shop that specialized in classic cars.  They had an opening and arranged for Cas’ car to be towed from his house, where he’d had it brought the night before, to the shop.  He’d driven his BMW to the shop, parking in the lot and heading inside to talk with the people that would be working on his car.  Insurance would be covering some of the cost but he wanted an estimate of what all the work would cost.  It was embarrassing enough knowing they’d see the word spray painted in huge black letters over the powder blue, but that couldn’t be cheap to remove.  Walking in the door he pulled his hat off and took a second to at least attempt to smooth his hair down.  He could see his car in one of the bays already through the door.

 

“Hi, can I help you?”  The man behind the counter asked.

 

“Yes, my car was towed in here a little while ago.  It’s the Chevy Bel Air.  My name is Castiel Novak.” 

 

“Oh, right, you’re the vandalism victim.”  The man looked sympathetic, and Cas was grateful for that.  “My boss wants to talk to you about that.  He’ll have a rundown of the costs to repair everything.  If you want to have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

 

Cas nodded and sat down in one of the leather armchairs that lined the waiting room.  The place was nice and the seat was very comfortable.  It wasn’t long before a man in jeans, a gray tee shirt, and a red, black, and gray flannel was coming in through the door that led out to the mechanical bays.

 

“Garth, handle my calls.”  He said to the man behind the counter.

 

“Will do, boss.”  Garth replied cheerfully.  The man turned his gaze on Cas.

 

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, this is my shop.  I’m sorry you had to experience that, especially with a car as nicely kept as yours is, but our goal is to get her back to her original shape.”  He offered his hand and after getting to his feet, Cas shook it firmly.

 

“Thank you, Dean, I appreciate that immensely.  I’m Cas.  My car is my pride and joy.  I’m wishing I’d switched to my other car since winter has already settled in, but I’d been putting it off since I prefer driving the Bel Air.  If I’d just switched like I wanted, I wouldn’t be paying as much in damages.  I’m chalking this up to a lesson learned the hard way.”

 

“Do you know who did this?”  Dean asked.

 

“Yes, a former patient of mine.  He didn’t like my methods of treatment and he promised to get back at me when he was released.  As you can tell, he has done exactly that.”  Cas sighed deeply. 

 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”  Dean looked genuinely remorseful and it eased a bit of Cas’ distress over the entire situation.

 

“I expect this will be costly.”

 

“It’s a classic, they’re rarely every cheap to fix, but I have ways of reducing costs for certain issues.  In this case, I can try to bang the dents out of the hood myself, but the windows will all need to be replaced.  I can check with my distributors, see if anyone has any in stock.  Tires are an easy fix and it doesn’t look like anything under the hood was tampered with, so that’s a plus.  She’s still fully running, and nothing was damaged when the hood was smashed.  Cars back then were solid metal not like the fiberglass pieces of crap made today.  It’s the paint that will be the most expensive.  I took a look at the spray paint and it looks like the jerk that did it knew exactly what he was using because this is the stuff that ruins car paint.  It’s bubbling up and we’re going to have to sand it down to the primer and repaint everywhere the spray paint touched.”  Dean explained.

 

“I figured as much.”  Cas’ shoulders fell in resignation.  It had been expensive to get the car painted when he’d first bought it, so he expected nothing less now.

 

“Hey, my goal isn’t to gouge my customers, ok?  I like running a reputable business and gaining repeat customers.  Preferably with different cars though.”  Dean said, smiling.  Cas noticed suddenly how handsome the man was.  He’d been so concerned about his car, and stressed out over what had happened that he hadn’t even noticed until this moment.  Work really was getting in the way of everything in his life.  He smiled back.

 

“I will keep that in mind as I have a Stingray in my garage that is in need of a rebuild.  I bought it at auction but haven’t gotten around to working on it yet.”

 

Dean’s green eyes seemed to light up at the mention of that.  “Really?  A Stingray?  What year?”

 

Cas smirked, knowing this little bit would get the man even more excited.  “I managed to get my hands on a ’63.  It’s in poor condition, needs a lot of work, but it was worth it.”

 

Dean covered his mouth with one hand and stared at him for a long moment before finally dropping it.  He had a huge grin on his face at that point.

 

“Do you know how rare those are?”

 

“I’m aware, that’s why I bought it.”  Cas chuckled.

 

“Please say you’ll bring it in here so I can work on it.”  Dean begged.

 

“Well, that will depend on the job you do on my Bel Air.”  Cas arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms.  “That’s my dream car, and I want her back in mint condition.  I bought her in similar condition to how the Stingray currently is, and I did some of the work myself before having a shop out west do the rest.  They did an excellent job, and I’d like her put back to the way she was, like you said you can do.”

 

“That’s exactly what we plan to do.  You just wait and see.”  Dean promised.

 

“Do you know how long it will take?”  Cas asked.

 

“We’re working on about four cars right now, and we’re at the mercy of how soon and where we can find parts.  I already have my guys calling around to find the windows for your car and this afternoon I’ll be working on the hood.  I’ll have someone sand the paint tomorrow.  I know where I can get the paint.  Good thing the idiot wasn’t smart enough to bust out your headlights or taillights.”

 

“I’m all but done with that job, it’s a hazard to my health.”  Cas absently touched the bandage on his forehead, wincing at how tender it felt.  He’d also noticed before he left the house that he had a black eye.  Thank you Taylor.

 

“What do you do?  You said a patient did this?” 

 

“I’m a psychiatrist at a private hospital for troubled youth.  I’ve been there for almost seven years now and my own health is beginning to decline as a result.  One of my current patients punched me yesterday hence the black eye, and clawed at my face, which is why I have a bandage on my forehead.  I work with very disturbed children, but I really don’t think I can do it much longer.  I’m going to drop dead from the stress.  I decided last night that I’m putting in my two week notice on Monday.  It’s time I follow through on my dream and open my own practice.  I’d like to actually have a social life before I die, and maybe get to enjoy my cars.”

 

Dean chuckled.  “I go for road trips in my ’67 Chevy Impala.  I love driving with the windows down and the music turned all the way up.  Sometimes my brother comes with me but usually I either go alone or I grab my best friend.”

 

“That sounds wonderful.  I want to do that.  I want to take a vacation somewhere warm.  I’m already sick of winter.”  Cas laughed.

 

“Well, we’ll get started on your car today, and I will keep you updated on the step by step process as we go.  But maybe you’ll let me take a look at that Stingray beforehand?”

 

Cas grinned.  “That can be arranged.  If you don’t mind stopping by my house.  I’m not having it towed here til I’m ready.”

 

“Sure, no problem.  I could stop by tomorrow morning.  I can get the ball rolling, get a list of everything you’ll need for it and get the lowest possible prices for you, so you’ll know what to expect down the road when you’re ready to get started on that one.”  Dean offered.

 

“That would be very much appreciated.”  Cas pulled out one of his business cards, the one that had his private cell on it and a pen from his inner pocket.  He jotted his address down on the back.  “I like the sleep in on the weekends as it’s the only time I actually get to, so if you don’t mind at least giving me until ten, I would greatly appreciate that.”  He handed the card over and Dean took a moment to read the address before slipping it into one of the pockets on his flannel.

 

“You don’t live far from me, maybe six blocks.  I don’t open the shop to the public on Sundays, but my guys work seven days a week.  I can be there around say, 11?”

 

“Sounds good.  Now, what are we looking at for pricing on the Bel Air?”  Cas asked.

 

They ended up in Dean’s office going over the costs and hashing out the insurance details until Cas was satisfied that he was indeed getting his car restored at the best price possible.  He went home and the following morning Dean arrived with coffee, bagels, cream cheese, and cinnamon rolls.  They spent hours looking at the Stingray and Dean wrote down every single thing it would need.  Two weeks later he had a detailed cost list written up that he hand delivered to Cas. 

 

Cas indeed put in his two week notice at the hospital.  He sustained a broken orbital socket and needed stitches after one of his schizophrenic patients bit him, but he had an excellent doctor replacing him, one with military training and two decades of dealing with children with issues worse than the ones here.  Cas got him up to date on all of his patients relatively quickly and then he was packing his things and leaving.  It was bittersweet.  He cared deeply about the children and their well-being but at the same time, he had to take care of himself too, and he wasn’t doing a good job of that working there. 

 

Within the first week of leaving, his stomach issues and headaches stopped.  He had already called his friend Tess and they had found the perfect spot to open up their own practice.  She got the ball rolling to make their business cards and do the advertising while he rented the space and furniture they would need.  Two months later they had the start of their own private practice.  Things were starting to look up.

 

Cas found himself spending a lot of time down at Winchester Restorations watching Dean work on the Bel Air, or just chatting with him while his men worked on the car.  Sometimes Dean came by the house and they tinkered on the Stingray together.  He enjoyed the man’s company, plus it was nice having a friend with similar interests.  When the Bel Air was finished, he was quite impressed with the quality of work that had been done, but to his surprise, Dean asked him not to bring the Stingray in.

 

“Why not?  I thought you were dying to work on it.”  He’d asked the day he’d come to pick up the Bel Air.  Dean had smiled as he’d handed over the keys.  That smile always seemed to make Cas’ stomach do flips.  He was fairly certain Dean was aware the effect he had on him too.

 

“I do, but I was thinking, most of the work can be done right there in your garage.  I can bring by the tools I need, and we can sort of do the project…together.  Just us.  Not my guys.”

 

“I’d like that.  Then when it’s time to paint, we bring it here?”  Cas asked. 

 

“Yep.  It’ll go slower, but I won’t charge for anything but the parts.  I’m just glad for the opportunity to get to work on her.  Maybe once she’s done we can get her into the car show.”  Dean said.

 

“I like that idea.”  Cas wanted the chance to spend more time with Dean.  He enjoyed every moment they were together, even if most of it was spent in the garage talking about the car or working on it.  It was still time spent with a handsome man, and he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to do that lately.

 

The rest of the winter and spring they spent weekends working on the Stingray.  Slowly they went from days spent under the hood together to afternoons spent eating lunch, stretched out on Cas’ couch watching movies or reruns to evenings spent out at local restaurants.  He wasn’t sure if they were dating or just enjoying time together as friends, so he proceeded as though it were the latter.  Dean was wonderful and they had much more than cars in common.  He talked about how his new practice was doing and his plans for possibly expanding it later on down the line while Dean talked about his brother, cars they were working on down at the shop, and the house he was thinking of buying.  With Dean, things were easy. 

 

Cas was locking up his office one evening after his last patient.  The lobby was empty, the secretary he and Tess shared had already left, and Tess was gone too.  He slid his trench coat on and started for the lobby door just as it opened.  To his surprise, Dean stepped through.

 

“Oh, hello, Dean, what are you doing here?”

 

“Hey, Cas.  I came to see if you wanted to get dinner.” 

 

Cas smiled and nodded.  “I’d like that.  Just let me finish locking up.”

 

He led Dean out into the main hall and locked the door to the lobby too.  They started for the elevator and Dean reached out to press the down button first.

 

“Where were you thinking?”  Cas asked.

 

“There’s that new Japanese place that opened up down the street.  I know you like sushi and stuff, and I thought maybe it’s time I tried real Japanese food, so why don’t we try there.”

 

“Ok, sounds good.”  Cas smiled as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped in.

 

“How was work?”  Dean asked.

 

“It went very well today.  I much prefer this to working in the hospital.  No one is trying to break my face or bite me anymore.” 

 

“You’re also dealing with much younger children, so there’s that.”  Dean said with a laugh.  Cas grinned.

 

“I’ve had enough of teenagers to last me a lifetime.”

 

“I bet.”  Dean placed a hand on his lower back as they stepped out into the first floor lobby and headed for the door that would take them out to the parking garage.  Cas could put his briefcase in his trunk and they could walk to the restaurant from there.  His stomach fluttered having Dean’s hand on his back and the moment it fell away, he missed the man’s touch.  They made their way to the Bel Air and he put his bag in the trunk.

 

“We can walk.  The weather is nice and it’s not far.”

 

“Yeah, sounds good.”  Dean agreed.

 

They fell in step beside one another as they headed for the door that led out to the street.  Cas noticed that Dean was particularly quiet, which meant something was on his mind.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

One corner of Dean’s mouth quirked upward in a small smile as he glanced at him.

 

“You shrinking me, doc?”

 

Cas smiled wide as he buried his hands in his pockets.  He’d known Dean for more than six months now and had become quiet familiar with many of his little quirks.  It was simple observation, so he said as much.

 

“So, observing me.  You do that a lot?”

 

“I suppose I do.” 

 

Dean turned his head, his green eyes studying him rather intensely for a moment.  “You’re not the only one that does.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means, I know you’re attracted to me, Cas.”

 

Cas stuttered to a stop for a second but Dean kept walking, so he hurried to catch up again.

 

“I’m gay.  I won’t deny that you’re an incredibly attractive man.”  He wasn’t going to lie, especially when Dean knew he liked him.  This time Dean did stop walking, so he did too.

 

“It’s just my looks?”  Dean asked.

 

“Of course not.  Looks aside, you’re a wonderful man with an amazing sense of humor and a kind heart.  I enjoy every moment I get to spend with you.”

 

Dean smiled, which released the knot which had begun to twist in Cas’ stomach.  He reached over and pulled one of the doctor’s hands out of trench coat pockets.

 

“Cas, I’ve been crazy about you almost since you walked in the door of my shop that first day.  Even as exhausted and stressed out as you looked, you were beautiful.  Then I started getting to really know you.  I suggested keeping the Stingray in your garage so I’d have an excuse to see you more often, and to be alone with you.  Once I got that, I couldn’t quite figure out how to really like, ask you out.  It felt awkward.  Like, were we dating?  Or were we just hanging out?  I’m bi, and I’ve mostly dated women in the past, but you’re special.  Like, really special, and it’s stupid, cause I haven’t even kissed you or anything, or touched you really until right now, but I’ve been falling in love with you.  I planned to talk to you about this over dinner.  I sort of wanted this to be a real date.”

 

So many emotions coursed through Cas all at once that he had to force himself to take a moment to calm down and focus on just one.  He closed the distance between them, bringing his free hand out of his pocket to gently caress Dean’s jaw. 

 

“I’ve had similar thoughts too.  I was uncertain where we stood.  It felt like maybe we were dating, but I didn’t know you were bi, you never said anything, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I settled for just being your friend.”

 

Dean pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him against his body.  “No, sweetheart, I want more than that.”

 

Cas smiled wide.  “Good, because I do too.  Should I assume then that we’ve been dating all this time?”

 

Dean laughed and it was a beautiful, happy sound.  “I was sort of hoping for that, so we can get to the good stuff, like kissing, and cuddling.”

 

“Hmm, and sex?”  Cas asked, arching one eyebrow at him.  He liked the soft blush that rose up on Dean’s cheeks.

 

“Well, yeah, when you’re ready.  I know I am.”

 

“Oh, I’m ready.  But I think dinner first, it’s been a long day and I am rather hungry.”  Cas went to pull back but Dean tightened his hold on him.  He looked up curiously, wondering what was going on.

 

“I know, I’m hungry too.  I worried myself sick before coming over here that you might not be interested in me, and now that I know you are, I’m like ravenous, but first, I’m hoping…I could kiss you?”

 

Cas didn’t bother answering with words.  He pressed his lips to Dean’s, feeling how easily the man opened up to him.  The kiss was wonderful, but even better was the feeling of being held close in Dean’s arms while they shared their first.  When they broke apart they were both smiling wide.

 

“Ok, now we go get some sushi.  What else is there to eat at a Japanese restaurant?”  Dean asked as he took Cas’ hand again and they started walking.

 

“There is a lot to choose from.  Sushi is not the only thing they eat.”  Cas said with a laugh.  “They have all sorts of delicious dishes.  We’ll find something you’ll like.”

 

“Ok.  I’m trusting your judgement.  Next time though, we’re going to get some authentic German food.  Sound good?”  Dean looked at him and he nodded in agreement.

 

“Sounds great.”

 

Dean smiled and squeezed his hand.  “Awesome.”

 

Indeed, it was awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome. Thank you for reading.


End file.
